


Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF - Shirtless Peter or these damn buttons

by Colepaldi-in-the-Tardis (Samstown4077)



Series: Colepaldi Collection [14]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Humour, Romance, shirtless peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 04:13:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2414534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samstown4077/pseuds/Colepaldi-in-the-Tardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the scene of "Robots of Sherwood" when Peter falls into the water. He has to change and Jenna walks in on him, while he is still a bit without cloth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF - Shirtless Peter or these damn buttons

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt I got on Tumblr, "Can you write an shirtless Peter and Jenna walks accidentally in"  
> Collection of Headcanons and Fic(lets) for the RPF Colepaldi ship. Please do not read when you don't like Real Person Fiction!  
> Sorry for any mistakes, my native is not English, thanks for reading anyway. Remember this is a fictional story.

 

“Naked!” Peter calls out, remaining stock still in his motions, his underwear half way up. In his surprise he blurts the word out with a tone of shock and question.

 

Jenna stops immediately. “No?”

 

Peter shakes puzzled his head, moving his underwear up and lets the waistband snap around his waist. “No?” he peeks around the corner, finding Jenna standing there.

 

His hair is still a bit wet and she can see a tiny bit of his bare shoulder. “It sounded more like a question.”

 

“A question?” he hides again behind the curtain.

 

“Or an invitation,” she says out loud and blames herself for not keeping her mouth shut.

 

Again he stops in his moves and tries to make sense out of it.

 

“I was not supposed to say that out loud,” she makes a grimace, hoping he will not be mad at her. “Sorry.”

 

Looking for his socks, smiling about her, “I admit it sounded not like a proper warning.”

 

Jenna finds herself leaning a bit to the right, hoping she would get another glimpse at him - she only realizes it when he peeks around again and she almost stumbles over her feet. She makes a jump to the left under Peters risen eyebrows. “Whatever, I am not naked and obviously you are. I just wanted to ask if you want some tea?”

 

“Yes, would be nice! Two minutes I am ready.”

 

“Good,” she turns around with an unsatisfied huff to leave again, when his voice stops her.

 

“You not missing much, Jenna. Just a 56 year old, pale, middle attractive body. Grey-haired stick insect, remember?” he giggles soundless. He knows he is not a heartthrob. No six pack, no brown tanned skin, just ordinary.

 

“Understatement of the year, pretty sure you’re worth it,” she whispers and walks away.

 

“What did you-” he looks around again, “say?” No, she didn’t say that, he must have misheard something.

 

He grabs for his trousers and gets them on, before looking for the shirt. It is packed in a plastic cover and he has to rip it open. It is still on the hanger and he has trouble to get it out. The buttons are always a bit tricky when the shirt is brand new. The material is still tight and the seams are way too solid. Somehow he gets the hanger out without opening the buttons or ripping the shirt apart and the next thing he does is fiddling around and is swearing at the tiny bastards. He could need a bit more light and his reading glasses, he thinks.

“Gosh, Peter, when did you get so old?” he asks himself.

 

How many minutes have past yet? Five at least and Jenna just walks into the big tent. Two mugs in her hands, not thinking about the possibility of Peter not being dressed by now, “Susan from make up told me, you can take your time, she is off to lunch,” walking around the corner she holds the mug out, toward a shirtless Peter, having the shirt in his hands, only two buttons open yet.

 

Jenna looks into his eyes, and the expression of shock makes her realize, she has walked in at him in an inconvenient moment. Focusing on his eyes, her field of view sends some more signals to her brain that she might should not look down, but of course she can’t control herself, and her eyes are flashing down over his chin, over his bare chest, the hands with the shirt, toward his waistband.

 _‘Don’t go further!’_ her head screams and she quickly brings her eyes back to his, swallowing. “Uhm.”

 

The shock in his eyes has changed into a more amused expression. “I am still half naked,” he says.

 

“Yeeess,” she breathes out. Her eyes developing a life of their own, again flashing over his chest. She feels embarrassed and shuts them, but not turning around. “Why?”

 

“This tiny bastards here!” he is tempted to just rip the thing open. Jenna has to smile, his Scottish accent so thick, it is always a pure pleasure. “This Paul Smith Shirts are my favourite, but the buttons are just outrageous.”

 

She still has the mug in her hands, and it gets warm, so she gives a slight “Ah” and walks over to the table behind him, to place it there. This time not turning around anymore. She would like to, of course, but she knows she should be more decent.

 

“Gosh, Jenna, turn around and help me, will yer?” he holds out the purple material. “You have seen shirtless men, do you? It is not like this is a first, is it?”

 

Turning around she takes the shirt from him, “Who knows?” catching his look. “I am kidding.”

 

For a few moments she tries to open the buttons, and decides she needs more light. Stepping a bit closer to Peter - the lamp behind him, she fiddles around. She is sure, the buttons wouldn’t be a problem, when she wouldn’t be in this situation. Her eyes, still not obeying her, looking up every few seconds, toward Peter.

 

He really looks not that bad. Lean, thin, only the slightest beginning of a tummy. No highly visible muscles but it wouldn’t suit him anyway, she thinks. Sure the muscles just hide under the soft flesh. A six pack isn’t even her thing. He has more visible muscles above it. The skin is stretching over the tendons of his chest, nothing is slack. On his pale chest he has some black/grey hairs. Curly. Not much, just a few. She could bet he trims them from time to time. His arms are well modelled, when he bends his arms, there she can see his biceps muscles twitch a bit. Somewhere in her thoughts she gets a little bit lost, watching his pale chest move up and down. Yes, he is pale, not as pale as she has expected. She can’t say, she is more tanned as he is.

  


“What is wrong with you?” he suddenly asks. She only has worked out three more buttons.

 

“I am sorry, but..,” she gestures over to him, “you are making me a bit nervous.” As if it wouldn’t be enough he spreads his arms away, to give her even more sight, not on purpose.

 

“Jesus, it is just me. I am not the camera assistant,” he rolls his eyes, “what is his name? Thomas? The walking swimming god?”

 

She snickers. “You mean Mark.” The 22 year old camera assistant is something like a sports god and has walked recently around with a way too tight shirt. Some on set really couldn’t take their eyes of him.

 

“Yeah, what ever,” he waves. “Pretty sure he would make you a lot more.”

 

Jenna stops in her doing, and looks at him. Did he just?

 

“Nervous I mean,” he realizes his wrong phrasing. “He w-would you make,.. make you would more nervous. The buttons!” he points impatient onto it.

 

“No, I don’t think so,” she opens another one. “You do really good,” another one. “I said that out loud again?”

 

“Yes, you did.”  They both blush. “Shall I put my coat on?”

 

“No, no! Please don’t!” she doesn’t even look up, so quick is her answer.

 

“Don’t you think you answered that a bit quick?”, he gives her one of his smug smiles, while she almost lets the shirt fall down.

 

“I mean… don’t because when you do, you look like one of those,.. those strippers.. what is their name,” she stops for a moment, closing her eyes and tries to remember, “Chippendales!”

 

“Chippendales? So where does this knowledge come from?”

 

“My mother fancied these guys,” she goes back to the buttons, “And you?”

 

“I used to work with them, once,” he can’t stay serious while saying it.

Jenna counters it with a plastic laugh, “Pretty sure, you did not. Youtube had given that away.”

 

“Shall I ask why you so sure about that?”

 

She blushes again. Her ears feel so hot, he has to see it.

_‘Better not!’_ she thinks, remembering that she once somehow got lost on Youtube while she googled for an interview they both gave. One video let to another and in the end, she found herself watching him in an eight year old movie more undressed as right now. He had lost some weight since then and it suits him, she knows she is flustered by him, not only by his bare chest.

 

“Here you go!” she has opened all the buttons of the front and gives him the shirt back. “You would be nervous too, when I would stand shirtless in front of you.”

 

Dumbfounded eyes stare at her. _‘Don’t!’_ he thinks, but it is too late. His eyes flicker down at her, the imagination of her without a shirt hits him offhand. Quickly he turns around.

 

Jenna laughs, she had it said with a clear intention. “You have seen shirtless women, do you?”

 

He just gives her a glance over his shoulders while slipping one arm inside the sleeve, groaning instantly.

“Look, you forgot some,” he turns around showing her his arm, stuck in the sleeve, because she hadn't opened the buttons by the cuffs. He makes no intention of slipping the shirt of again, instead, he lets his hand inside, the rest of the shirt is hanging loose over his shoulder.

 

She tries to open them, but the angle is not right and so she has to turn around a bit. Facing his chest with parts of her shoulder and her back. Though she not realizes how she turns toward him, how she takes his arm and shuffles over to the light a bit more.

 

He has to follow and he does look at her in surprise and awareness how close she is now to him. Watching her face, her neck, she just fiddles on, and mumbles; “If you don’t write Paul Smith, I will.”

 

The button is open and his hand can come through. “Great!” he smiles broadly, holding out his other sleeve to her.

 

“I didn’t know I am your personal dresser now?”

 

“Come on, I can’t open them with two hands, what do you expect I can do with one? You did well, so, just help me out,” he shakes his arm emphatically. Glancing over to the table he remembers his tea, she had brought him, “Oh, I almost forgot,” he takes her arms, and guides her toward the table.

 

While her hands are at the buttons, her shoulder pumps into his chest, but she lets him guide her, “What are you doing?”

 

“My tea!” he comes to an hold, taking the mug up with his free hand. Jenna now surrounded by his arms. Her upper arm against his skin and it doesn’t help her to open the last button. The touch through the thin fabric of her own dress, feels like a heavy burn. Peter's body heat is crawling up her spine. The soft sounds his breath is making when leaving his nose sounds in her sensitive ears like a tsunami. And then there is a drum. A constant fast drum. She needs a second to understand, that it is her heart. It is impossible he does not hear it. Her hands shake slightly.

 

Peter sees. He really only wanted to sip from his tea, only wanted some help with the buttons. There were no intentions at all. What for? It is just him. He blinks a few times, while studying her eager facial expression she gives. It strikes him, that she is somehow intimidated by him, by his nakedness.

Hadn't he seen her last week with Mark the living six pack boy? He had to hold the camera, laying at her side in a shirt way to tight? He can’t remember she was flustered or nervous or distracted for one second. Why now?

 

He places the tea back on the table, “Grey-haired stick insect, remember?” he whispers then and shuffles away from her to give her some room.

 

“You undersell yourself,” she says quietly, opening the last button and he can slip finally into his shirt.

 

“Do I?” he starts closing the shirt from down to top. He has done that a million times, he doesn't need to look doing it, nevertheless he does keep his eyes down. Knowing Jenna will watch him. It makes his heart beat faster and his ears burn.

 

The purple fabric closes bit by bit. His navel first, then the very prominent costal arch of his, before he closes the buttons over his chest hair.

She is not really shocked by her thought how it would feel touching him there - not in a sexual way, she is just curious. About the muscles and how does his skin feels. Her head is filled with a swooshing sound, so much blood circulates through it.

 

“Or you just being nice?” he closes the last one under his chin, the only one he has a bit trouble with. Standing in front of her, his hands at his side he looks at her, a soft smile on his lips before turning to his cuffs, trying to close them.

 

Watching him in amusement for a moment she steps in and takes his hand wrist and helps him. "Why would I?"

 

"Don't know, maybe trying to comfort a man in his crisis about his looks?"

 

"You are in a crisis about your looks?"

 

"Maybe,” he watches her carefully, even taking a deep breath in, to catch some of her scent, that hangs between them. When he does so, she glances up to him, lingers with her eyes on his. He gives her time, before he shoots her a mischievous smile, and whispers with a soft poke, “Buttons.”

 

"Can I be honest?" she is now finished with his shirt, and steps away, reaching for his coat to give it to him.

 

"Sure you can. "

 

"People consider you attractive, Peter. And they haven't seen you naked, so it is not all about the looks. So just go with it. Be fine with it."

 

"I thought it helps when your looks suit your personality, " he slips into the coat, wiping off some imaginary lint.

 

Jenna takes her time, before she answers, she knows, they have to go soon, and it might be the last she will say in this headed moment. “It is maybe not my right to say it, and .. uhm … well, take it from me, and believe me; I was not nervous because of your personality in this room.”

 

Peter stares at her, instantly biting his fingers - he always does when a bit nervous. Jenna is about to leave, “Really?”

 

She stops, giving him a cheeky smile, “I really will write Paul Smith- about the buttons,” and adds with a more lower sound in her voice; “I really like these tiny little bastards.”

-

_**So hope you did like it! Just for general information; the film I mentioned is "Aftersun" and it is from 2006 I think. I went a bit with this but most free form, there are no other documents of PC without a shirt. If someone knows .. please! send me a message ;)** _

 

**Author's Note:**

> So hope you did like it! --> Kudos?!  
> Just for general information; the film I mentioned is "Aftersun" and it is from 2006 I think. I went a bit with this but most free form.


End file.
